


noise | technoblade x reader

by whisp3ring_reeds



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Burns, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Soft Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), They/Them, Trauma, dreams a bad guy, im not a good tagger, it doesn't work out, kind of follows the canon storyline, no beta we die like men, no romantic relationships, readers gender is unspecified, technoblade tries to retire, with some edits, y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 05:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisp3ring_reeds/pseuds/whisp3ring_reeds
Summary: Y/N lives in a world of little noise. It's dejected and lonely, but calm and peaceful. It's not perfect, but it's how things are. Until a certain hybrid is brought into their life, and for a pig of so little words, he sure brings a lot of noise. And a lot of adventure.PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS ONLY. THIS IS NOT A SHIPPING FANFIC.Also, if any content creators express that they are uncomfortable with this, I will take it down immediately.Gender neutral pronouns and terms are used for Y/N.
Relationships: Reader & Other(s), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)/Reader, Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	noise | technoblade x reader

**Author's Note:**

> for the record: y/n is not mute or deaf. their vocal cords were damaged in a ghast explosion so it hurts to talk somedays. they can speak just fine but it hurts them, so that's why they don't talk a lot. and technoblade knows sign language.

It was cold; the heavy winter chill clinging heavily to your body. It snaked down your skin, leaving the icy kisses of discomfort against your body. Tightening your grip around the coat draped over your shoulders, you shakily heaved out a puff of air.

For all your distaste for the heat, when the temperature sunk as low as it was, any warmth would prove to be a blessing. 

Now. What had you been doing? You cursed the cold’s distraction before readjusting the axe in your hands. The rough wood was scratchy against your calloused hands, and even after you’d held it in a more comfortable position, you found yourself turning it. When the days were slow -such as currently- it was like your brain was a broken radio that fizzled in and out of functionality. 

Which was, actually, the original reason you’d left your house; because a slow day meant the negative thoughts were that much closer, and you were too tired to handle them.

Narrowing your eyes against the wind, you lifted the axe into the air and swung. The axe made a satisfying crack against the poor tree. One more hit, and it'd be done for. You pulled the weapon back again and swung. The tree trembled against the weight of the hit and tumbled into more portable planks of wood.

You didn’t know how much wood you’d collect, probably as much as you could possibly carry, because your mind was skipping with thoughts. Not even negative thoughts... but sometimes, your own voice, echoing in your head, was exhausting. You always wondered if other people could understand, but nobody else that you’d met seemed to get as clipped as you did with your brain. 

Gritting your teeth, you swung the axe again at a different tree.

Crack. Crack. Crack. 

The sounds of poor tree abuse were the only thing loud enough in the forest to breach your thoughts, and you relished in the distraction. Now that you’d actually begun the task, you knew it’d be hard to stop until it was well past dark. 

You knew their… creatures that roamed around after day fell, but right then, you just didn’t want to go home. Home. You laughed bitterly and swung the axe again. Imagine actually having a fucking home. 

Unsure where the flame of sudden anger came from, you found your grip on the wooden handle tightening. You swung again, hitting empty air and tumbling to the side in surprise at the lack of impact. Your lungs seized in your chest, attempting to suffocate you. The axe had slipped from your grip at the stumble, and, blinking slowly, you found that you were on the ground.

You must’ve fallen. Which meant you’d been more distracted than usual. Your hand drifted to your chest, where you gently massaged the skin above your lungs to settle your breathing. 

Sighing, you didn’t even realize that you still hadn’t made a move to get up or grab your axe. Now that you weren’t moving, slowly, the sweat that had beaded on your skin was growing cold, and you found yourself cursing winter once again. But you didn’t bother getting up yet. You needed a moment to calm yourself before picking up a weapon.

To say you got blinded by rage was an overreaction, but you did get blinded. Your thoughts were more than you could handle, which left you a very exhausted victim to the weaponless killer, your brain.

“Uh. You need help?” 

That, well, that surprised you. You inhaled sharply, you’re gaze shriveling upward in the direction of whoever spoke. You didn’t get out much, talk to many people, hell, you didn’t hear a lot of anything. The forest was always so quiet. You swallowed nervously. Why were you nervous? You weren’t in danger. 

It took a moment for the spoken words to actually register in your head, and once they did, you allowed yourself to focus on the speaker. Actually focus, not just stare blankly. Your lips shifted slightly, debating sound. 

You didn’t give them the time, shaking your head but reaching out to grab the stranger’s outstretched hand. You blamed it on not wanting him to feel awkward at the rejection for help, but you also knew that some help standing wouldn’t be the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.

Once up, the stranger pulled his hand back. It had been warm, but not hot, just… warm, welcoming, safe. You chewed on the inside of your lip for a moment before directing your eyes upwards, meeting the man’s.

You offered a gentle smile in gratitude. 

The stranger’s mouth flickered just barely up, halfway between a small smile and a huff. That’s when you realized the mask placed upon his face. It was that of bone, covering the majority of his face and the features underneath. But you caught the smile. And the tusks peeking out of his mouth. 

So, not a man. Well, not... completely. A hybrid of some kind. You kept the surprise out of your eyes, drawing a tongue over your dry lips and clearing your throat awkwardly. 

You knew the polite thing to do would be to thank him or break the heavy moment with… something. So you quickly rummaged through your inventory and pulled out a flower. It wasn’t much, just a simple daisy, but the stranger stared at you like you’d pulled out your kidney and handed it to him.

He wasn’t used to gifts, that much was clear. You held it out more, closer to him, to encourage him to take it. You wouldn’t be upset if he didn’t want it, but you found yourself happier than expected when he did. His hands radiated warmth when he reached out and took the flower, and that’s when it clicked; The Nether. 

The hybrid in front of you came from the Nether. A place so hot the inhabitants either wore scars from the heat -burns or tans-, or simply absorbed the warmth into their bodies. 

Your own skin felt suffocating at the revolution, and you were relieved when he grabbed the flower and removed his hand from where it floated near yours. You still had nothing against him, but the Nether… you sighed sharply to direct your thoughts back to the stranger.

He opened his mouth, ready to talk again. He seemed unbothered, if not a little confused, at your silence and had matched it in comfortable quiet until that moment. You wondered what he’d say to break the tranquility, which actually took a moment longer than expected, for he seemed to be unsure of his words himself.

“I- uh, thanks,” the stranger managed. 

You smiled again. He smiled back, this time a little more from the first.

It made you happier than expected -that was the second time- to see that he was growing more comfortable around you. You didn’t expect to know him long, but leaving a good impression meant more to you than you’d care to admit. You didn’t like being disliked. It wasn’t a good feeling.

A beat of quiet, a bit awkward now, before a gentle, “I’m Technoblade.”

Technoblade. The name sounded familiar, and since that was a name that wasn’t common... when you felt a flash of recognition, you were sure you’d heard of him before. There was a hesitant moment where you debated asking, but it passed before you could even try to figure out how to word it.

Then, you were on to your next… problem. Your name. You slowly brought your hands up again and brokenly signed your name. You weren’t sure of a couple things; the first being had you signed that right and the other being… did Technoblade even know sign language? You hoped he did. It would make things easier.

He didn’t react for a moment, before his mouth gently opened in an ‘oh’. “Y/N,” he spoke, testing the words. It was strange to hear your name out loud, but you were glad you’d signed it correctly. “Okay. Um, good to know.” He was still holding the flower oh so gently in one hand while his other hand rubbed at his neck.

Another bout of silence hung in the air, and you desperately wished to break it with words, but when your lips separated, your throat seized slightly, seeming to remind you that speaking would be painful. Possible, but painful, so your lips closed, and you settled for turning to grab the axe that you still hadn’t picked up.

“It’s almost dark,” Technoblade commented. It was curt, expressionless- or maybe just unreadable to you. But he hadn’t left, so you waited in case he wasn’t finished.

You grabbed the axe and shifted it in your hands. This time, you barely noticed the coarse wood handle against your burned palm. Technoblade had your attention. He hadn’t said anything else yet, and when you caught his gaze, it was questioning. 

‘I can hear you.’ You mouthed to him. Your hands itched to sign your thoughts, but you didn’t know sign language well enough yet. You hadn’t practiced, lately, because it’d been ages since you’d needed to communicate with someone. Technoblade’s expression, which you could still barely see, relaxed minutely, and he nodded just slightly.

When he spoke finally, it was quieter than before. You didn’t mind. Quiet was good. You were used to it. “You’re good, then? With, y’know, the mobs an’ stuff…” But it wasn’t just quieter, you realized after a moment, it was slightly nervous. Not for you or anything, but because he didn’t trust himself to say the right words. At least, that’s the conclusion you came up with.

You nodded and then gave him a thumbs up. 

His chin jerked up and down slightly, matching your nod awkwardly. “Okay. Uh, see you around, then, maybe.”

And then he was off. Leaving you there, confused, and in the silence again.

But this time, it wasn’t so bad because you weren't trying not to think. In fact, you were embracing your mind, replaying the conversation in your head. Going over the mask and the piglin features poking out of it. 

It was a strange encounter. But it was gentle, soft. You tucked your axe away and turned the opposite way Technoblade had headed. He had been right, it was going to be dark soon, and there was this twisting sensation inside your stomach that told you that you didn’t want to fight any mobs tonight. 

You smiled as you walked home, suddenly content. 

________________________________________

The second time you encountered Technoblade was around a week or so later.

It was a better day than the first time, and the burns that stretched across your upper body didn’t hurt nearly as bad, which led to your thoughts going easy on you. You didn’t even have any nightmares the previous night, a rare occasion.

However, you left the house with a wary frown when the sun came up. Nothing was wrong, and the absence of negativity was, in itself, startling. Usually, something always went wrong, so you were just waiting. Waiting for the Universe to pull the trick out of its sleeve and mess up your day.

But it didn’t come. At least, not to you, not yet. It seemed that it had a different plan that day.

The empty, cold sound of bones rattling against each other had you drawing your weapon, but it was the slice of an arrow against the wind that alerted you someone was already fighting the skeleton. You pursed your lips, not loosening your grip on the axe, and slowly head into the forest. 

“Shit! Get down!” Someone -Technoblade- yelled. It was loud, gruff- panicked? The sudden protruding bark of an order caught you and your world of silence by surprise. Something made contact with your shoulder, and it took you seconds to realize what Technoblade had said. 

Get down. He was fighting mobs.

You inhaled sharply when you realized you’d been shot and swiftly ducked out of the skeleton’s firing range. Technoblade seemed pissed, and you briefly worried that the anger was directed at you, but when he charged, it was at your attacker. The axe in his hand, netherite and enchanted, glistened in the early morning sun. You watched as he sliced the skeleton in half in one clean swipe.

It collapsed, leaving behind its bow -which was in terrible shape- and a pile of bones. Technoblade cast your direction a slightly concerned look, but you didn’t notice through his mask. 

The arrow hurt, it’d hit your shoulder, which was bad enough, but it had to get your scarred shoulder. That would be a fucking pain to deal with. But, you realized, you didn’t really have time to worry about that. Because Technoblade continued to swing his weapon, and his glowing red eyes scanned the forest clearing. 

What was he fighting now? 

Your brain rattled off a list of possibilities; another skeleton, zombie, creeper. But it was none of those, and you watched with widened eyes as a wolf with matching red eyes flung itself at him. 

Shit. That meant… you glanced behind the wolf, which had been shrouded in darkness. Just as you’d thought, three more just as pissed wolves lingered behind, ready to attack when the moment was right. You drew your tongue over your dried lips, readjusted your weapon, and rushed in. 

You could fight. So you should be helping.

“Y/N, don’t-” Technoblade started but was cut off when he had to block one of the wolves’ lunges with his weapon. You worried for a second that you were only distracting him, only getting in his way, but you were set on at least trying to help now.

One of the wolves in the background caught onto you, and its deep growling echoed in the forest. It was loud, you realized numbly. The clearing was loud. Technoblade was panting, wolves were snarling, and so many feet thudded against the floor. You weren’t used to it. But you didn’t have time to think of the noise.

The wolf charged at you, an attack that you evenly matched with a swing to the air. You didn’t hit it, but that was purposeful. You didn’t want to hurt the poor animal unless necessary.

Another wolf, you’d lost count at how many were in the clearing, broke away from the shadows to join its partner in fighting you, and you swung at that one too. It made a swishing sound that was barely heard over the fighting. This time, you didn’t have a pacifist choice, and you struck the wolves’ face.

It howled in pain, snarling. Technoblade hit his target too, but his didn’t get up again, and the wolves made one last effort to defend themselves. The one you hit lunged at you, and pulling back to hit it, your shoulder let out a roar of pain, and when you swung, you missed completely.

You braced yourself for pain, but the wolf was the one who cried out. Technoblade, once again, had protected you. And he stayed there, standing in between you and the wolves until the injured pack scampered away.

Anger coursed through you, but not at Technoblade, or the wolves, at yourself. You’d gotten distracted, twice, in the heat of battle. 

It’d been ages since you’d actually fought anything, but you’d always guessed that you were at least capable. It all felt like a kick to the gut. 

So, when Technoblade turned to you, you winced away. You hadn’t meant to. You weren’t mad at him, he’d helped you, twice. But it was a gut-reaction, and you couldn’t allow him to see your scars, which would be inevitable if he tried to help with the arrow wound. Despite how grateful you were to him, you wanted him to leave so you could tend to yourself.

“Y/N,” he spoke gently. He quickly tucked away his bloody weapon and took a step backward. It took you a moment to understand why, but it clicked for you when he spoke again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything…”

And he seemed so genuine…

You opened your mouth to talk, to say it wasn’t his fault, but no words came out. Instead, the twisting you had done to face him forced a guttural hiss out of your mouth. “Fuck!” You heaved afterward, grabbing onto a tree to keep yourself upright. That fucking hurt. Both the talking and the wound. 

Technoblade seemed surprised when you spoke, but it was gone so quick you weren’t sure if you’d even seen the shocked look on his face. He took a couple steps toward you, still cautious as to not startle you... but determined now.

He first checked to see if the wolves had caused you any harm, but you’d managed to fight them well enough and remain unscathed in that area. So he moved onto the arrow. It had pierced through your coat, through your shirt, and somehow still deep into your damaged skin. “That’s not good,” Technoblade commented.

You gritted your teeth in clear frustration but kept it to yourself. 

“Is your base far? We need to get this taken care of. It’s not terrible, but it could be if untreated,” the hybrid continued. It was strange, seeing him take on such a suddenly confident healer role. He didn’t seem like the type. But you pursed your lips, and as much as you knew it would be hard to handle on your own, you didn’t need the questions that would arise when he saw your burn scars. 

A head shake is what you settled on. But then, you turned and rested a hand on his shoulder. He went rigid at the touch for a moment before relaxing. ‘I got this.’ You mouthed, hoping he’d understand.

And, well, he did. But your effort was hopeless. He was determined to patch you up. “Come on, then. Lead the way.”


End file.
